The Girl From The London Train
by TheCrackParade
Summary: A young artist, Karkat Vantas meets a bubbly but perculiar girl, one Miss Pyrope on a train from London to Paris


October 4th 1998. That's when I last saw her. It was the 9:55 train from London to Paris via the Channel Tunnel.

The autumn draught was creeping under my baggy, candy-red turtle-neck, inflating it into woollen balloon. My hair wilted at my brow like a soft, dark curtain. It was damp from the rain that was pitter-pattering on the tin rooftop above me; like fairy feet in a daydream. I wondered what it would be like, you know, to be hand in hand with someone; caress their warmth in your arms. I could feel tears well up in my eyes. What did it feel like to love, to be loved?

I boarded the train after it had pulled up at the station in an immediate halt. My foot nearly slipped into the gap as I rushed on, using my briefcase to plough through the crowds. I let out a breath of relief as I managed a seat on the train. As I craned my neck around rows of seats draped with blue velvety fabric, I noticed every almost sofa shaped seat was opposite another facing it and separating them was a grey table made of plastic. The table in front of me had been scribbled on with a piece of red chalk. I began to unpack my sketchbook and drawing pencils out onto the surface, aligning them in parallel lines.

As I took out my set of watercolour paints and brushes, a lady, with hair as dark as the wing of a raven in winter, sat opposite me. She took a copy of 'Wuthering Heights' out her bag and began to read. I started to whistle 'You Are My Sunshine' as I tapped my pen on my pad, stunt for ideas on what to draw. The girl peered over the pages of her book smiling a full toothed grin. An idea sparked to mind.

"Hey," I leant across the table and tapped her on the shoulder, lightly. She jumped up stunned. There was something completely familiar about her. Oh boy was she adorable when she spoke in that gorgeous London accent.

"H-H-Hello…" She stammered then trailed off, covering her face with a gentle, elegant hand.

"I couldn't help but notice your beautiful face and I was wondering if I could draw you… You know nothing professional but-"

"Sure!" A surge of confidence seemingly washed over her. She fixed her posture and her hair then faced towards the window. It had stopped raining and the sun was out. The sunlight fell across her pinkish-brown skin like liquid diamond, her lips full and red as summer roses. I felt the urge to kiss her and hold her in my arms, never letting go. I only just then noticed her glasses; scarlet-tinted specs with a silver lined frame, twinkling in the glow of the sky.

"So what's your name? Where ya from?" I asked her still staring at her contently and sketching all the same.

"Terezi… Pyrope. You can call me TeeZee. And London, Knightsbridge" She smiled that same toothy grin, this time her tongue peeked out from behind her pearly whites.

"There finished!" I held the sketch up towards her, smiling ear to ear. She gestured to me to bring it closer.

"I can't see very well… I mean I'm visually impaired slightly… In an accident but I can tell it's perfect." She smiled again. To be frank, she had never stopped smiling since the first time she had walked through those train doors.

"Thank you." I had never felt so nervous talking to somebody in my entire life. Abruptly, the train came to a halt. I had to hold onto my seat so that I didn't fall off of it.

"Well this is my stop. Uh… Goodbye, Sir." She stood up and threw her bag over her shoulder, walked over to me and hugged me. Just before she turned around she spoke, a flare of passion in her voice. "Um, I never got to ask you but what might your name be sir?"

"Karkat. Karkat Vantas."

"Well Mr Vantas, I bid you farewell." As she left I could smell her perfume. It lingered, the sweet smell of thought and flow; a ladylike essence. The last words she ever spoke to me, I never realised just how important those words were. She blew me a kiss as she stepped out the train doors and out of my life. I sighed.

And to this day, I know I will never, ever see her again.


End file.
